Perils of the Past
by MarieQuiteContrarie
Summary: The Charmings ask Belle and Rumple for help with Dark!Emma. Meanwhile, Killian Jones takes matters into his own hands and tries to secure the Golds' cooperation in another way. Post Season 4B. Part 5 of the Empty!Heart Verse.


The doorbell rang, followed by furious pounding. Belle jerked awake at the noise, peering at the clock on the nightstand. 6:05 a.m. Beside her, Rumple slept on in peace. Surprised but content, Belle smiled. Usually he was a light sleeper but yesterday had been physically and emotionally exhausting for them both, even more so for him after leaving the hospital. Feet bare, Belle padded into the foyer as the insistent hammering at the door continued.

Standing on the other side was an impatient David. "Where the hell is Gold? We need his help," he barked without preamble.

"Well, good morning to you, too, David," Belle said dryly. "Is this about Emma?"

"Why else would I be here?" he snapped. "We've subdued her—for now. She's locked in a cell at the police station and Killian has the dagger."

"What happened?" Still standing in the doorway, she shivered, crossing her arms over her chest to ward off the chill of the early morning air.

"She tried to kill Regina. Nearly choked her to death. I've never seen Emma so out of control. She's cagey, manipulative, and very, very angry." David's voice shook and his hands trembled, evidence of his worry.

"The Dark One curse," Belle nodded. "Regina, is she all right?" Outwardly Belle was the picture of concern but inside she was feeling a little smug. Regina had caused the Golds so many problems, most recently stealing her heart to hurt Rumple and ignoring his pleas for help while he was dying. It was about time that harpy got a taste of her own medicine.

"She's shaken, but ok. So, as I told you," David said "We need Gold to..."

Belle cut him off swiftly. "And as I told you before, David, Emma is not my first priority. Nor is Regina. Rumple fought against the Dark One for over 300 years and no one expressed a modicum of concern for his welfare. I'll talk to him and see if he's willing to help. But right now he's sleeping and I'm not about to wake him."

David sputtered at her in disbelief, eyes round like saucers in his face. "But Belle!"

"I understand that you're worried about your family, David," her voice softened slightly in sympathy but retained its crisp edge. "And I understand why. Won't you extend me the same courtesy? Rumple is my husband and he's been through hell—in the past year alone he has been imprisoned, tortured, banished, lost his son, and almost died. A little compassion for his suffering would not be out of line."

She was tired of bowing to the Charming family's every whim and need. She was over them barging into the pawnshop or banging on the door of their home, always seeking something. They may have been royalty in the Enchanted Forest, but Belle owed them no fealty. Yet every time they snapped their fingers she was bending over backwards to assist; watching Baby Neal, doing research, or putting the safety of the town before her own husband. No longer. From now on, she and Rumple were a team in all ways and she would consult him about this situation before making David any promises or agreeing to help.

"Please, Belle," David tried once more to convince her. "Gold may be the only person who can get through to her."

She nodded. "You're probably right. Rumple knows more about the Dark One curse than anyone. And I will ask him. But it's his choice to make, David, not mine. We'll call you later," Belle said firmly and slammed the door. David stood on the porch for a moment, his mouth agape, before stalking back to his truck, muttering about immortal imps and curses.

Rumple was sitting up in bed blinking the sleep out of his eyes when Belle returned to the bedroom. "Good morning, my love. How are you today?" She smiled at him, easing back into bed to snuggle against his chest. These intimate moments in the early morning hours had been her favorite part of their brief marriage. Often they would awaken together before the sun crested the horizon, murmuring endearments as the first golden rays of sunlight hit the windowpanes.

Rumplestiltskin pushed aside his thoughts of the nightmare that had shaken him awake to smile back at Belle. It had not been Zelena pounding on the door. That had been only a dream, hadn't it?

"I'm wonderful, now that you're here, my Belle," he said, relaxing enough to revel in the scent of her auburn curls as she reclined against him. She was balm to his weary spirit. He traced lazy patterns with his fingers on her back and arms. "Who was at the door?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

She narrowed her eyes at him, searching his face. He was pale and there was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. "You're sure you're all right? Did you have a nightmare?"

He nodded, recalling his promise of no more deceptions. "I'm all right now, truly. Let's change the subject. Who did you say was knocking on our door at 6 o'clock on a Saturday?"

Belle relented. At least he had admitted to the nightmare. "That was David. There's a crisis with Emma. She went after Regina. They were able to coax the dagger away from her and contain her in cell."

"Who has it now?" Rumple shuddered, remembering how awful it felt to be controlled by the blade, even if it was for the person's own good. He knew that Emma wouldn't truly _want_ to hurt anyone—he hadn't, either, till the power of the darkness proved too seductive for him to resist.

"Killian does."

"I hope that pirate can keep his wits about him. It wouldn't do for that blade to fall into the wrong hands," Rumple grumbled.

"I know you don't like him and with good reason," Belle cupped his cheek in her palm. "But he cares for Emma and I do believe he wants what's best for her. We don't always understand other people's actions, but sometimes we just have to trust in their love." She smiled at him knowingly.

"Aye," he acknowledged. "It's not Hook I feel sorry for, though; it's the Charmings. I can't imagine if Bae…well, I wouldn't wish that burden on any parent." He looked away, burdened with compassion and regret. He hadn't been a good father, but he had loved his son with every fiber of his being; he knew all too well the pain and desperation David and Mary Margaret were feeling.

"Hey," she said softly, taking gentle hold of her chin to meet his sorrow-filled eyes. "Rumple? Look at me. You need to stop blaming yourself for Baelfire—his death was a horrible tragedy but it was not your fault; it was Zelena."

He sighed. "I only wish Bae could have remembered me as a hero instead of the coward that I am, Belle."

Sadness pierced her soul with the knowledge that her love genuinely believed himself to be a failure in the eyes of his son. "Rum, no, that's not how it happened. Emma told me that Neal thanked you for showing him what it means to make a true sacrifice. How can you think for a moment that he wasn't proud of you—proud to be your son?"

He knuckled tears away from his warm brown eyes, giving her a look of such gratitude and hope that her own eyes filled with tears. "He loved you," she assured, embracing him fully. "Neal loved you so, so much. He forgave you, Rumple, and he would want you to forgive yourself."

"My darling Belle," he rumbled, pressing his face against the ivory column of her throat. "What have I ever done to deserve you?"

"You don't have to do anything to deserve my love, Rumplestiltzkin. You never have. I love you—all of you—for who you are."

"Belle," he whispered her name like a prayer then captured her mouth in a tender kiss. They drank from each other's lips for long moments before pulling back, hearts fluttering and breaths unsteady.

"I'd like to keep you in bed all day," she teased. "But I have to ask. What do you want to do about Emma?"

He considered, sympathy warring with a burst of triumph that someone else was tasting the darkness; the beast he'd caged inside of him for centuries. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I do know that I want to hear what you think. For too long I've shut you out, keeping my own counsel when I should have been honest." He grimaced. "Not anymore, Belle."

She beamed at him. "You don't know how happy it makes me that you have confidence in me—in us. I want us to share everything—the good and the bad. I don't want to pressure you in this, but I can't help thinking of Henry. Rum, he was so supportive and worked so hard to bring you back to me. Emma is his mother, as is Regina, and he must be devastated by this."

"You're right, sweetheart. I need to do this for Henry. Besides, he is my grandson and all we have left of Baelfire. I must do all I can to ensure his happiness. But Belle I haven't faced him since—oh Belle, I nearly killed him in the alternate story," he confessed, miserable. "Like a fool, I believed the Author when he said Henry was a threat. Every time I try to be a hero I fail."

"But you didn't kill him," she reminded gently. "Rumple, you made a mistake. Isaac's treachery was to blame for most of that mess. And I know you were only trying to save us from the Dark One. Henry knows, too." She patted his hand.

He released the breath he'd been holding, thankful that Belle understood that his intentions had been good. "I'll go down to the jail now," he decided, rising to begin the day. "Besides, someone has to teach Emma to control herself or she'll destroy everything in her path."

"After breakfast," Belle ordered, getting out of bed and flattening her hands against his chest. "And we'll go together."

"My wife has become quite bossy," he grinned playfully, grabbing for her as she stepped out of his arms. Belle had always been able to distract him from his moments of melancholy.

"She laughed and sidled just out of his reach, eyes flashing with delight. "Taking care of you is my first priority."

He clenched his jaw and a shadow passed over his face once more. "Belle, I may not be the Dark One anymore but I am not without resources. I promise you that I can still take care of myself and you."

"I know you can, Rum, and I love you for wanting to protect me. There's no safer place in the world for me than at your side," she assured him.

While Rumple showered and dressed, Belle bustled around the kitchen brewing tea and scrambling eggs for breakfast. Not for the first time, she wished she and Rumple could spend a peaceful day at home just enjoying each other. Someday, she reasoned, there would be no crisis du jour and they would have that quiet time they both desperately craved.

Belle hummed to herself as she poured tea and set the table. As she turned back to the stove to remove the eggs from the pan, a cold hand closed over her mouth. She twisted against the pressure, trying to scream, then felt a sharp point of steel against her back. A cloth laced with something cloyingly sweet was pressed against her nose. Magic, she thought hazily, before she slumped against her attacker.

* * *

Rumplestiltzkin descended the stairs, drawn in by the scents of toasted bread and spiced orange tea. His stomach rumbled; he was actually hungry and the prospects of a cozy, delicious breakfast with his favorite person in the world lifted his spirits considerably. He stopped short at the threshold to the kitchen. Two cups brimmed with steaming tea and a pan of warm eggs sat on the stove, but no Belle. Had she gotten engrossed in a book and retired to the den? Calling out for her, he searched the first floor, but she was nowhere to be found. Coming back through the kitchen, he noticed the back door was slightly ajar and the lock broken. There was no sign of a struggle, but Belle would never leave like this without telling him; not by choice. Fear seized him. Belle had been taken—but where? And by whom?

* * *

Belle awoke in darkness, the salty, tangy smell of sea air and the gentle rocking of the thin pallet she was lying on alerting her to where she was. The hold of a ship—maybe the Jolly Rodger, she surmised. Other than being chilled and still groggy from the effects of whatever had been used to knock her out, she was fine. She wondered how long it would be till her captor returned.

Moments later, a latch creaked overhead and Killian Jones descended into the hold. "Hello, love," he greeted, waving a gun in her direction. "Sorry about the sleeping drought—but you're so much more agreeable when you're unconscious. Did you have a nice nap?"

"Well, if it isn't my research partner," she accused. "You unbelievable bastard. You said we were friends." She was furious with herself for being played the fool yet again.

"Not in a particularly good mood, are you? Perhaps I should have left you to rest a little longer." His eyes glinted with fury and amusement, but something else lurked in their icy blue depths. Panic? Desperation? Belle wasn't sure but she intended to get to the bottom of this little stunt. She could stand toe-to-toe with the Beast of Storybrooke and Captain Killian "Hook" Jones didn't frighten her in the slightest.

"Come now, Killian," she challenged. "This is not very original of you; the brooding pirate captain hauling the damsel back to his ship. We've hundreds of stories like this in the Storybrooke Library." She lifted her chin in defiance. "He's going to find me. He always does."

"Well, you know, love. Desperate times and all that. Besides, I find when dealing with predictable creatures like the Crocodile it's best not to overcomplicate matters. Of course he'll find you. I'm counting on it." He rubbed at an imaginary spot on his hook, trying to appear carefree and unapologetic.

"Why are you doing this? Because of Emma?" she surmised, though she already knew the answer.

"Yes, because of Emma! For such a smart woman you're awfully bloody stupid sometimes! Never more so than where your precious Crocodile is concerned," he argued, his expression blackening with anger.

"I'm stupid?! How dare you? I'm not the one who resorted to kidnapping to coerce Rumple into helping! We were heading the police station before you broke into our home and brought me here!" Enraged by his insults, she scrambled to her feet, nearly whacking her head on a barrel.

"Yes, I know." He extended an arm to help steady her, and she slapped him away. "Clumsy, aren't you?" he parried with a wicked grin.

"My lack of grace is not the topic of conversation! If you already knew Rumple was going to help Emma why on earth am I trapped in here?!" she demanded.

"This is his doing—Emma is the Dark One now because of him. He wanted to turn Emma's heart toward darkness. Couldn't he just die and leave this town in peace? He's been planning this all along!"

Belle was stunned. Why did everyone always believe the worst of Rumplestiltzkin? "You think he planned to make Emma the Dark One? Try listening to yourself because you're not making any sense. Rumple used the Author to buy time, to save Storybrooke! If the Dark One hadn't been taken out of him, the darkness would have destroyed him completely, and we'd all be dead. Including Emma."

"I should have shoved that blade through his twisted heart myself." Bitterness punctuated the pirate's words, as he ignored Belle's appeal. "Calling herself the Black Swan." He muttered. "She won't even speak to me!"

Belle groaned, pity mixing with disgust. "Killian, everything is not about you. This is about Emma. And Emma made her choice. I'm sorry for what happened, but it was her decision. She has to accept responsibility for that choice, just as Rumple did when he became the Dark One. But tolerance and compassion for Rumple? That's always in short supply," she bit out. "To think that just this morning I was defending you to him!"

"He killed Milah!" Killian roared in her face.

Belle didn't even flinch before shouting back, "You took his wife and the mother of his son! And even though she was cruel to him and abandoned her child, he's regretted killing her every single day for hundreds of years. I'm not making excuses for him—Rumple has made wrong choices, but he's done a lot of good, too."

"He's a villain and a coward!"

"Ah, yes!" she said sarcastically. "In the world according to Killian Jones, Rumple's responsible for his crimes while he's _cursed_ , yet when Emma chokes Regina under the exact same curse, someone else is to blame! Didn't Emma kill Cruella before she became the Dark One? I suppose that's Rumple's fault as well!" she huffed.

"He tried to free himself from the dagger by using my heart!"

"When you blackmail Rumplestiltzkin, expect to get burned," she retorted hotly. "And even though you meddled in our marriage, I saved your sorry hide—but kidnapping is the thanks I get? You have an odd way of showing gratitude."

"Princess, I did you a favor. Why would a woman like you want to be with a man like that?"

"Because I see the man he truly is and the man he's capable of becoming. You don't _see him_ and what's worse is you don't want to! This ridiculous feud between you has to end," she pleaded. "It's been 300 years. Let it go. Let me go."

"No! Not until he begs me to release you like the coward he is."

"I don't think it'll come to that," a voice interrupted smoothly.

There in the shadows was Rumple, teeth bared in fury and a revolver pressed against the captain's back. "Let go of my wife," he snarled, "or I'll put a bullet through your back."

"Only a coward shoots a man from behind," Killian retorted, raising his hands in a gesture of mock surrender.

"Only a fool kidnaps the Dark One's wife," Rumple replied.

"Dark One? Not anymore! You're toothless, old dog." Killian chortled.

"And yet, still able to outwit you. You are so distracted that I, _a mere cripple_ , was able to sneak into the bowels of this foul vessel without you hearing me. I may not be the Dark One anymore, dearie, but I am still a very dangerous man." He narrowed his eyes and pushed the gun firmly against Killian's vertebrae. "I had this town in my pocket for 28 years without access to magic—I'm fairly certain I can dispatch a one-handed pirate."

"You should have stayed in New York and died, Crocodile." Killian swiveled his head to stare at his nemesis.

"Only to miss the chance to torture you for the rest of your miserable existence?" he snorted.

"Couldn't stand to just leave Belle and this town alone and do the honorable thing, could you?" Killian jeered. "But then you always did run away from a fight."

Rumple barked a mirthless laugh. "What you know of honor, Hook, would barely fill a post-it note."

"Oh would you both shut up?!" Belle snapped. Knocking the gun from Killian's hand, she caught it mid-air and aimed for both men.

Rumple, still with his pistol trained on Killian, raised a chiseled eyebrow at his wife.

"Put the gun away, Rumple," she ordered. "He's trying to goad you into hurting him and you're giving him exactly what he wants." Reluctantly, he lowered the gun and winced. He knew that tone; his Belle was in high dudgeon.

"Killian, what you did today –do you think that's going to help Emma?" Belle's voice was sharp.

"No," Killian said quietly. "I suppose not."

"Rumplestiltzkin, enough," Belle warned, catching the gleeful look he threw toward his enemy.

Apparently this lecture was aimed at him as well, Rumple thought. But he was only here to come to Belle's aid. Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck and wondered if knights and princes were treated so shabbily when rescuing their ladies.

The pawnbroker and the pirate regarded Belle meekly, like shamefaced little boys who has been caught brawling on the school playground.

"Now," she said, "the two of you have a choice. You can persist in this foolish fight that's been going on for three centuries until one of both of you ends up dead. Or, you can put aside your differences, and work together for good," she offered.

"Killian, you want to save Emma from herself and keep her from hurting anyone else, right?"

"Aye," he agreed.

She appealed to her husband next. "Rumple, you know this curse better than anyone because you've lived it. You know how the Dark One thinks and how it works. You have a chance now to right the wrongs you've done and to show people the kind of man you can be, the man I know you are."

"All right, Belle. I will try." He gazed at her with love, amazed by how neatly she had talked them out of this quandary. And he thought he was the deal maker!

"The past is done and buried," Belle continued. "There's no changing it. But the future is open to possibilities. You're both capable of making the right choice."

Killian inclined his head and Rumple turned toward him awkwardly, tightening his grip on his cane. Eyes meeting, the longtime foes acknowledged each other with small, stiff nods.

"Good," she praised. "Now that we have that settled…" she slammed the butt of Killian's gun into his jaw. He collapsed in a head.

Crouching down beside him on the floor where he lay moaning, she smiled sweetly into his shocked visage. "That was for kidnapping me and scaring my husband. You have used me against Rumple for the last time! Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, my lady." He moaned again, nodding his assent.

Belle's chestnut curls cascaded around her shoulders in disarray, her eyes bright with fury and cheeks deliciously pink. She looked every inch the avenging angel. She really was the most remarkable woman in all the realms, thought Rumplestiltkin, smothering a laugh.

"Come on then, Jones." Leaning heavily on his cane, Rumple hauled the pirate to his feet. "If I leave you here with Belle she'll kick your arse." Smiling broadly, he guided Belle toward the ladder that led topside. "After you, my love. We've much to do. Let's go save the Savior."


End file.
